T.C. Cannon was a rebel child of the ’60s. And a preserver of heritage. An augmenter of that heritage. A painter with classical influences. A modernizer of those influences. A singer, poet, painter, thinker.

T.C. Cannon was an artist. His large, color-splash paintings, now on display at the Peabody Essex Museum, are captured lovingly and authoritatively in "At the Edge of America," an astutely curated exhibition that remains on view through June 10.

Cannon (Pai-doung-u-day: One Who Stands in the Sun; 1946–78) was tribally enrolled as Kiowa; he was Caddo and French as well by birth. Born in Oklahoma, he spent formative training years as an artist in Santa Fe and in San Francisco. Time as an army paratrooper, especially two years in Vietnam, also strongly informed his thinking. He died in an automobile accident at 31.

His paintings update his heritage, without nostalgia, but with an unerring eye toward the blatant history of injustice his people experience in the United States. His warriors also carry modern weapons, and sport army uniforms; his subjects wear traditional dress, but sit in cheap folding beach chairs. Even his own self-portrait shows a nuclear bomb blast, happening outside a background window.

Cannon was also a poet and musician, and this exhibition captures his artistic expansiveness with multiple poetry selections inscribed on the walls, and listening spaces. "At the Edge of America" is beautifully designed, at first forcing the visitor along pathways into the exhibition, but then allowing for reverse sight-lines to revisit particularly affecting works.

The paintings themselves — about 30, predominantly acrylic on canvas — capture Native American subjects in contemporary life. But not jarringly so, or incongruously; always with a subtle sense that these subjects are living their heritage, but not entirely on their own terms.

As in "Waiting for the Bus (Anadarko Princess)." A woman sits in native dress, holding an umbrella against the bright sun, staring straight ahead in interest (or defiance), but also simply waiting for the next bus. And in "A Remembered Muse," where a native couple listen with engagement to the phonograph; the muse, in this case, Verdi’s Tosca.

The subjects predominate, filling the compositions. The backgrounds get rendered colorfully, but with only slight detail (except for the multiple appearances of wildly patterned wallpapers).

The paintings wear their traditional influences — the European ones — with pride as well. Van Gogh shows up repeatedly, in the textured backgrounds (like his postman Joseph Roulin portrait) and swirling patterns. This is visible most notably in Cannon’s "Two Guns Arikara." Rauschenberg seems an undeniable influence, as does Arthur Dove.

There are multiple works that will encourage visitors to repeat the viewing experience. A large mural, set as a triptych, shows Cannon’s sweeping view of Plains history. Several striking abstracts make one wonder if Cannon would have explored that avenue, had he not died so young.

This exhibition significantly updates the Peabody Essex Museum’s own tradition, in the best possible way. Founded in part by objects traded for and purchased from native peoples in the Pacific Rim, the museum has always worked hard to remain relevant to those beginnings, to bring a respectful and informed eye to the artwork that has been created in the past and continues to thrive. As T.C. Cannon’s work does.

"T.C. Cannon: At the Edge of America" runs at the Peabody Essex Museum through June 10. For information visit www.pem.org or call 978-745-9500.

Keith Powers covers music and the arts for GateHouse Media and WBUR’s ARTery. Follow @PowersKeith; email to keithmichaelpowers@gmail.com